Like Father, Like Son
by Sweet Little Darling
Summary: Eleven year old Harry Potter gets sick. Somehow Severus Snape ends up taking care of him.


_Like Father, Like Son_

Eleven year old Harry Potter was describe as a "good" boy. He seemed to be generally respected by his peers and teachers, and even Dumbledore seemed to admire him. They gave nothing but good reports about Harry Potter.

They described him as a smart, polite eleven year old boy who sometimes forgot to do his homework and got into some mischief like all boys do, but a good boy nonetheless. But it seemed only Severus Snape, the potions teacher at Hogwarts could see behind the facade. Maybe Potter could fool everyone at school with his goody-two-shoes, wouldn't-kill-a-fly attitude, but Snape wasn't buying it.

He could see the arrogance in Potter that shine behind his green eyes. Lily's eyes. The only good thing about the boy, Severus might add. One class with him and he already knew that he would detest Potter and try to make his life miserable for the next seven years at Hogwarts.

Potter was easy to read, he though, he was arrogant, stubborn, and had that proud, superior look in him that could rival James Potter's. He was already picking his new sidekicks, Snape thought nastily Granger and Weasley and they were often seen in the company of the incompetent Longbottom boy.

Yes, Severus Snape would not be fooled by Harry Potter's disguise. He knew that behind those vibrant green eyes, there laid another James Potter.

* * *

"Achoo!" Eleven year old Harry Potter let out a sneeze so loud that it ruffled Hedwig's feathers as she arrived at the breakfast table with the new book that he had ordered, Quidditch through the Ages.

Hedwig seem to glare at him, as if wondering if Harry had ruffled her feathers on purpose.

"Sorry, Hedwig," he sniffled as he untied the small book from her leg and placed it on the breakfast table. He gave Hedwig a piece of his toast and she gave a small hoot before she flew away.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Hermione Granger asked looking up from her Potions textbook.

Harry nodded. He had been starting to feel a little under the weather for the past few days. A sniff here, a cough there. But only until he had woken up that morning that Harry knew that he was catching a bad cold.

I really should go up to Madam Pomfrey for a pepper up potion, Harry thought, but his thoughts were interrupted by Ron who was looking at Hermione with a shock kind of awe.

"What are you doing, Hermione?" he asked with a mouth full of bacon and scrambled eggs. "We don't have potions until after lunch."

"Yes, but if you would have bothered to listen to Professor Snape then you would know that he is going to be testing our ability to make a healing potion for simple wounds." Hermione snapped, not bothering to look up from her book

Ron and Harry groaned.

"It's worth half of this terms grade." Hermione shoved the book towards them. "Study up."

"Let see," Ron squinted as he looked at the ingredients. "Seaweed, rat's tails, bat wings, porcupine quills-how is this supposed to heal anyone? Are they trying to heal them or make them worse?"

* * *

By the time Harry reached his final class of the day, Potions his headache was worse and he really wished that he was in his own bed back at Gryffindor Tower instead of the cold dungeons.

Hermione looked at him worriedly. "Are you sure you're all right Harry? You look a bit ill."

"I'm fine, Hermione." He said, hating himself for sounding annoyed, but he really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

Thankfully, Ron could take a hint. "Leave him alone, look let's grab our seats almost everyone is seated already."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly slid into their seats. Snape greeted them at the front of the classroom, wearing a grim expression that was almost always reserved for funerals. "No talking." He said. "You know what to do, grab the ingredients from the student cupboard and start on your healing potion. Instructions are in the blackboard. You have forty five minutes and remember this is worth half of your term grade. Begin."

Everyone began working quietly with the occasional mumbling of Hermione or the nervous gulps coming from Neville.  
Harry at this point wouldn't care if he had to repeat his first year, if he could only get into bed. His eyesight became slightly blurry as he read the next set of instructions. Drop the batwings and stir counter clockwise for one minute.

Harry eyed his potion as he stirred counter clockwise, his vision becoming blurry at he stared at the heating cauldron. It was turning pink instead of red like the instructions had said, but Harry felt too tired to worry, instead he kept stirring.

The warm brewing that the cauldron released was hot against Harry's skin, but at the same time very comforting. He closed his eyes and felt himself slipping away.

Hermione let out a shriek as Harry fell to the floor, even Ron looked startled. Many of the first years looked at an unconscious Harry on the floor as if he had done it on purpose. Even Draco seemed please and no doubt hoping that Harry had fallen dead.

"POTTER!" Snape stomped in Harry's direction. "How dare you cause a commotion? Get up now."

"Please, Professor," Hermione said shyly. "I don't-"

"No one asked for your opinion, Miss Granger."

"He just fainted, you dolt!" Ron blurted out before he could stop himself.

Snape gave him a cold smile. "Detention, tomorrow night Mr. Weasley. Class is dismiss I need to take Potter to the hospital wing, apparently he doesn't know where it is." He levitated Harry in the air. Hermione and Ron attempted to follow Snape, but he hissed at them. "Not you two."

"We're his friends!" Ron protested.

"Contrary to the popular belief, Weasley you two aren't Potter's life support," Snape said sarcastically. "I'm sure he will be able to survive a few hours without you. Now leave before I give you another detention."

* * *

"What do you mean Madam Pomfrey isn't here?" Snape hissed at Professor McGonagall. He had left Harry in his own private room (locking the doors just to make sure Potter didn't get any funny ideas) and went to get Madam Pomfrey only to find out that the hospital wing was empty.

"There was an emergency at St. Mungo's," she said. "What is it, Severus? Is it a student?"

"Yes, it's a student," Snape growled. "Potter, he's running a fever and fainted in the middle of my class, looking for attention no doubt-"

Minerva interrupted Severus. "Where is Potter now?"

"In my rooms, probably wheezing his last breaths."

"Good. Is his fever dangerously high?"

"No, it's probably just the common flu, the dolt should have gone to Madam Pomfrey for a potion in the first place."

Minerva ignored the comment. "Good, keep him there Severus, until Madam Pomfrey returns. If it's just the flu, it shouldn't be that much trouble."

"Excuse me," he growled. "Keep Potter in my room? Marvelous idea, Minerva why don't I just invite him to stay at my place for the summer. I need to be teaching my classes."

"It's just for a few hours until Madam Pomfrey returns, I already send her an owl."

Cursing and with no way out, Snape went back to his rooms. Harry was where he had left him in the dingy old couch that he had bought at Diagon Alley ten years before (no way was he sleeping in his bed.)

He had curled himself into a ball, his face was pale, and there were beats of sweat on his forehead. The boy truly was pathetic. He moved his wand around and mumbled a spell in order to get his temperature. "102.3. No wonder you fainted, Potter. It makes me wonder how you survived these past eleven years without drowning in your own tub."

Snape approached him and as if feeling his presence, he opened his eyes and let out a yelp. He looked around, frightened as if believing that Voldemort will be appearing at any moment.

"Sit down or lay down!" Snape ordered, using his wand to push Harry back into the stuffy couch. "You won't faint on my watch."

Harry looked around dazedly. "Where am I?"

"In my rooms," Snape said coldly. "I trust that you didn't suffer a concussion back there, Potter."

Harry closed his eyes. The fever, potion making, he had fainted. Oh, Merlin he wanted to die from embarrassment. "I fainted."

"Congratulations, you're finally using your brain. Lovely."

Harry glared at Snape. "I want to go back to my dormitory." He tried to stand up, but he found himself glued to the couch. "What did you do?"

"Calm yourself Potter and save the dramatics. I merely used a spell to keep you confined to the couch." Snape said lazily. "And you will address me as sir from now on."

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing, sir?" Harry asked furiously.

"Because Potter, Madam Pomfrey isn't here, now stop moving I'll going to do a quick diagnosis with my wand." Harry squirmed in his seat. "Just as I though, the common flu for the common boy. Tell me, Potter were you unaware of the symptoms of the flu or were you immune to it until this day? Any other decent person would have known straightaway that they have the flu. Why didn't you got to Madam Pomfrey right away? I assume your aunt and uncle took care of you whenever you were sick."

Harry blinked at Snape, as if he had just told him that he was going to adopt him. Take care of him, was he serious? Did he not know the kind of people Harry had been forced to interact with for the past eleven years? The Dursleys weren't exactly bedsides manners material, especially when it came to Harry.

Whenever Harry was sick with the flu or the common cold Aunt Petunia avoided him like he had the bubonic plague, Uncle Vernom would yell at Harry for coughing while he was hearing the six o'clock news, and Dudley would choose that specific day to play his loudest, most violent video games to worsen Harry's already pounding headache.

"Not really, sir they just let the flu run its course, sir." Harry said flatly. "May I go now, sir?"

"Are you deaf, Potter I just told you that Madam Pomfrey won't be returning until evening and we both will have to enjoy the misery of each other's company."

"Can't you just give me a shot or something?" Harry begged.

"Shot? I have something much quicker," he handed Harry the bright blood red potion that they had been trying to make in class. "Drink Potter."

Harry weakly grabbed the flask and stared at it. "Do I have too?"

"Stop whining like a child," Snape scolded. "You either drink it or I will be happy to force it down your throat myself."

Harry grimaced as he choked down the potion. It tasted like chili peppers. He began coughing and Snape merely handed him a glass of water. "Try not to spill it on my couch, Potter."

Harry glared defiantly at Snape and Snape glared back. "Now get some sleep, Potter. Merlin knows that idle chit chat with you is the last thing I want to do. I have better things to do than hear you whining like a toddler." He saw that Harry wasn't doing what he was told. "Are you defying me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." Harry said sarcastically as he laid back on the couch, pulling the thin blanket closer to his chin. He hated to admit this, but his pounding headache was slowly disappearing and within minutes he was asleep.

A few minutes later, Snape removed his glasses and palmed Harry's forehead. The fever seemed to be going down. It seemed that he would live. What a pity.

There was no doubt about it. Harry Potter was just another copy of James Potter, it seemed only stupider and with half his wit and double the stubbornness. But, Severus glance back, at least he had Lily's eyes.

**THE END**

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